


Waving Through a Sliding Glass Door

by HonestlyJustHereForALaff



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, COVID-19, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Coronavirus, Depression, Established Relationship, Evan Hansen Has Anxiety, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Soft Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonestlyJustHereForALaff/pseuds/HonestlyJustHereForALaff
Summary: Evan is really Not Coping with quarantine. Connor takes matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Waving Through a Sliding Glass Door

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this near the beginning of quarantine, hated it, edited it, still hated it, came back to it months later and suddenly didn't hate it anymore and decided I should post it, even though it is now VERY outdated. So yeah, consider the story to take place sometime around April 2020.

Sometimes Evan thinks back to the beginning of his senior year. That time when he thought walking into school, or giving a presentation, or figuring out the bus schedule to get to therapy on time was worth so much anxiety.

Oh, sweet summer child Evan. If only he knew.

Actually, it was much better that he didn’t know. If a future version of himself had appeared in his room back in September and said, “Hey, just so you know, there’s going to be a global pandemic in six months”, he wasn’t sure he’d have even made it out of bed.

And that would have been horrible. Especially considering what almost happened to his maybe-boyfriend.

He and Connor were dating, Evan was pretty sure. They’d had their first kiss kind of out of nowhere around the end of February, and many more in the interim. Connor had even held his hand at lunch a few times, and only rolled his eyes when Jared started loudly singing the Wedding March one of those times.

But right when Evan had built up the courage to have the “What are we?” talk, BAM. School closed for the foreseeable future.

Which normally wouldn’t be an issue. No school meant more time for...other things. Specifically, with Connor. But this was hardly a pleasant surprise of a vacation.

Especially not in this house.

If Evan thought he didn’t see enough of his mom before, he was mistaken. The time Before was practically an episode of The Brady Bunch compared to now. Mom was usually home for maybe a few hours at a time these days, and she used that time to eat, do laundry, or sleep. And on top of that, she was hesitant about being close to him, since she couldn’t exactly avoid contact with the virus. Evan understood, but it still meant the rift between them was getting wider when it had finally started shrinking.

And of course, none of this did wonders for Evan’s mental health.

He knew he should feel grateful that it wasn’t even weird to be anxious these days, but Evan was always the most anxious person in any room, and this was no exception. On top of the familiar anxiety spirals such as "Am I Going To Feel This Awful Forever" and "Does Anyone Really Like Me Or Do They Just Feel Sorry For Me", there were now new ones, such as "All The Horrible Outcomes For When (Not If) My Mom Catches The Coronavirus" and "How This Particular Trauma Is Going To Add More To My Already Substantial Mental Health Related Bills". And of course, there were the anxiety spirals that were already there but were now much bigger, such as "The Future is Hopeless" and "Connor Is Going To Figure Out He Can Do Better Eventually And Then I’ll Be Without A Maybe-Boyfriend **AND** A Best Friend".

He tried to remind himself that the last one wasn’t based in reality. Connor had hardly grown distant. If anything, the two of them had been talking even more since all this happened. They did video chats occasionally, but they made Evan just as anxious as a phone call, if not more so, so it was mostly nonstop texting. Connor was usually a very deliberate texter, but these days he’d wake up to texts like:

_Why in gods name are people unironically stanning joe exotic? Speaking as a fellow Problematic Gay Icon, like fuck this guy, at least I don’t abuse cute cats_

_Do you think I could teach myself contortionist shit? Like how funny would it be if Zoe just walked in one day and I’m just a human pretzel reading The Witcher like it’s whatever_

_Tongues are actually so weird. They’re like a horror movie monster that lives in your mouth. They have no right. I’m gonna fight my tongue brb_

And yeah, it made him laugh every time, which he desperately needed these days. And talking to Connor was always great.

But he couldn’t help worrying about him, too.

Connor’s condition didn’t lend itself well to isolation. Hell, neither did Evan’s, but Evan’s breakdowns tended to be implosions rather than explosions. Or maybe more like a corrosion--something that happened slowly, eating away at him piece by piece until, before anyone knew it, the damage was done.

Still not great, obviously, but all it took was a few check-ins here and there to ease the corrosion just a bit longer.

Connor? His mental health was more like a pipe bomb. No one knows if or when it will go off, but if things get bad and it’s not defused in seconds, boom. It’s all over. 

No more Connor.

And being more alone with his thoughts than usual, it was getting harder and harder for Evan to tell his mind not to Go There.

Zoe would check on her brother, of course. And Connor and Alana had a friendship that was adorable but that Evan would never fully understand, she’d notice if something was really wrong. He’d even gotten a text from Jared last week reading:

_Emo Boi Update: Drove by his house. Saw him in the window drawing or some gay shit equivalent. Honked 12 times while making dick-sucking hand motion. Subject held up sketchbook with words “YOU WISH” written on it. Taylor Swift could never. Conclusion: Emo boi remains emo._

It was as close to a “concerned friend checking up on a friend” as Jared could get, probably.

Evan knew everyone was worried about him, too. Things kept getting “anonymously” dropped off at his house. A bag of homemade cloth masks (Alana, most likely). Some jigsaw puzzles (also Alana? Maybe Zoe?). A fresh-baked cinnamon apple pie (Jared’s mom) with a post-it note that had a dick drawn on it (Jared). 

And one of many very familiar black hoodies (duh).

The big grocery bags were clearly a group effort. Connor or Jared wouldn’t think to buy produce, but Alana and Zoe didn’t know which shampoo he used. 

But the box of Gushers was an inside joke. 

Evan had ranted at Connor one day about how fruit snacks were one thing but if they had juice in them then they were basically just fruit at that point and why not just eat some grapes and save yourself the 9 grams of added sugars and increased carbon footprint?

That had been early in their friendship, and Evan had worried he’d scared him off, but Connor had just laughed till he cried. 

It was the first time he’d seen Connor really happy. Evan thinks that might have been when he fell for him.

Nowadays Connor would send him a picture of a box of Gushers, or himself eating the Gushers, and Evan would respond with an angry emoji or gif, but really, it always made him smile.

And judging from the box, Connor knew that.

Then again, he had no idea how Jared snuck the lube in there without anyone noticing.

None of them ever fessed up to it. Even with the hoodie, or the Gushers, Connor wouldn’t admit it. To be fair, Evan had made it very clear that he didn’t want anyone to put themselves out for him, so maybe they were trying to be respectful.

But he saw them. And it filled the void just a little.

Still, he knew Connor’s hoodie wouldn’t smell like him forever. He knew a box of Gushers was a poor substitute for hearing Connor laugh without technology getting in the way. 

And as time went on, he noticed his Mom distancing herself even more. 

She wouldn’t talk about it, but he knew that she was starting to see people die, or at least come close to it. He knew it was her way of coping, but he still missed his mom. Even with all the stuff people left, and all the check-in texts, and all the video chats, he still felt so utterly alone.

The loneliness, the guilt, the anxiety--he knew he couldn’t fight it all off forever. But he also knew that everyone else was also dealing with loneliness and anxiety and guilt, and it wasn’t fair to add to that by complaining about his own problems, right? He’d find ways to deal with it on his own. It’d be fine.

This is fine.

His text alert making him flinch and even let out a small scream might say otherwise. To be fair, he’d been spacing out pretty hard.

Dissociating, he corrected himself. His therapist told him he needed to pay attention to how much he was dissociating. Evan would guess 20 out of 24 hours, but he couldn’t exactly tell his therapist that.

Without moving from his position lying face-up on the bed, he dug his phone out from under his pillow to check it, not at all surprised to see a text from Connor.

_Another morning in hell, am I right? You up yet?_

He’d been up for hours, but he couldn’t tell Connor that. The list of things he was willing to tell anyone was getting shorter, apparently.

**_I’m awake, but not up yet_** , He typed back. 

The answer back was quicker than he anticipated. Or, he should say answers, plural.

_You should get up._

_Like, to eat something. You should definitely eat something_

_But maybe get dressed first._

Evan frowned.

**_Why would I need to get dressed? I’m not exactly going anywhere._ **

Still, he considered it as he slowly moved to sit up. God, everything felt heavier these days.

Oh God, was he getting heavier? He had to be, it wasn’t like he was eating healthy, with everything needing to be ready-made. But some days he didn’t eat at all, so did it balance out? Maybe he should dig out the old bathroom scale and--

He jumped at the text tone again. Dammit, how did he manage to get even jumpier? That never used to scare him before.

_Positive mindset, remember? Being physically ready helps you be mentally ready. Or at least that’s what my therapist says, and if I have to do it, so do you._

Well, he had been wearing the same pajamas for the past three days. And he could only use the “I’m saving laundry detergent” excuse for so long.

 ** _FINE_** , Evan typed back, but he was smiling. Just a little.

He settled on a pair of old, worn-in jeans, since he still wanted to be comfy, a black t-shirt that he was surprised to find was his and not Connor’s, and then a blue button-up over that, since the weather hadn’t quite gotten the message that it was nearing summer. Besides, he wouldn’t dare mess with the heat, he was costing his mom enough as it was.

He really shouldn’t dwell on that stuff. He was supposed to be doing self-care, for God’s sake.

But then again, asking Evan Hansen not to dwell was kind of like asking a frog not to jump.

Eat, he was supposed to be eating. He promised Connor he’d eat.

He checked his phone again, as if to remind himself, and saw he had a new text.

_Make yourself something nice. <3_

Another smile. Maybe a bit bigger this time.

Still, his legs felt heavier than he remembered as he made his way out of his room and towards the kitchen. He knew he could just make himself a bowl of cereal, but…

Nice. Something nice for himself.

He decided to make some toast. Put in some effort. 

Even though he knew it’d be there, he smiled when he saw his favorite strawberry jam in the pantry. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed having a warm breakfast.

Once he put it down on the counter, and got the plate ready, he braced himself for the toaster. He’d be ready this time. This time, unlike all other times, he would not jump.

He did jump.

But not from the toaster.

Two knocks, on glass. The sound of knocking was always enough to send Evan panicking, it meant answering doors, it meant strangers, it meant awkward small talk.

But when he turned to the sliding glass door in the kitchen, he knew he was in for none of those things.

Standing in his backyard, looking equal parts sheepish and amused, was none other than Connor Murphy.

All Evan could do was gape like a fish for a moment. 

Connor Murphy.

Was here.

Outside his house.

He finally snapped out of it, and practically sprinted to the door, almost crashing into the glass in his haste, and he could see Connor’s shoulders shake in laughter, even hear it through the glass. God, he was right there.

He even found himself reaching for the handle, before remembering.

“I--I can’t let you in,” Evan forced out. As much as he wanted to just throw the door open and hug his possible-boyfriend, he knew the whole house was probably infected at this point. He wouldn’t risk Connor.

Connor’s face didn’t fall an inch. “I know,” Evan heard through the thick glass.

It wasn’t until he started unfolding it that Evan noticed what had been under his arm the whole time.

A folding chair.

Specifically, a padded folding chair. (Evan didn’t even know they made those.)

And just...sat down in it.

“Um, what...I mean, what are you--”

“Thought we could hang out,” Connor shrugged, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. This wasn’t some casual thing. No one just brings a padded folding chair on a whim, not even someone as impulsive as him.

“Just...like, here? Right here?”

“Yeah.”

“Um...for how long?”

“I have to be home for dinner, but until then, I’m here.”

“That’s...that’s basically the whole day.”

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

The words were confrontational, but Connor’s face and tone definitely weren’t. They were one part defensive, three parts apprehensive.

Connor actually thought he’d say no. And that was the best joke Evan had heard all quarantine.

“Not even a little,” Evan said, his voice soft, but clearly loud enough to be heard, since the defensive-apprehensive look on Connor’s face was soon replaced with a gentle smile. 

“Go get your toast. I have TikToks to watch you react to.”

* * *

It wasn’t much different from any other time Connor came over, really. They talked for a while, but it eventually turned into the usual, “You have to see this” or “This is you” sort of meme-sharing. The only difference was that they weren’t binging anything on Netflix, since that would be unwieldy. But Evan was struck by how normal it all felt.

And God, he hadn’t realized just how badly he needed normal right now.

Connor reluctantly declared he had to leave when the sun started to set. He’d brought a granola bar with him to be his lunch, but he couldn’t avoid dinner forever.

It occurred to Evan as Connor said his goodbyes and turned to walk away. 

He didn’t know when he’d see him again.

Either of them could catch the virus tomorrow, and in two weeks be on a damn ventilator. Or just drop from a stroke, tons of young people had. If Connor got it, he’d have to say his goodbyes through a walkie-talkie or a phone. And if it was him that caught it, it’s not like there’d be anyone home to call him an ambulance.

Nothing was certain anymore. And it was time to stop acting like it.

“Connor!” He yelled, banging on the door a few times just to make sure he heard.

It might have been overkill, because Connor dropped the chair and sprinted back over, eyes wide with panic. “What, what? You okay?” 

And Evan saw a little of his own panic reflected back in Connor’s eyes. Weirdly, it calmed him.

But a deep breath couldn’t hurt. So he took one, and then…

“It was really nice to see my boyfriend today.”

Connor just blinked, and Evan tried to stuff his panic down. 

Then, slowly, a smile spread across Connor’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, so quiet he was almost sure it didn’t make it through the glass.

Connor cleared his throat. “Um, it...it was nice to see mine, too. My, uh...my boyfriend.”

God, it sounded so good when Connor said it. Evan felt like a weight lifted off his chest.

“You, um, you should get to dinner,” Evan said, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could look at Connor like this without ripping open the glass door and kissing him.

“Dinner, right,” Connor said, even shaking his head a little, which was so cute and God, he was not making this easy for Evan. “I’ll text you tonight?”

“Yeah,” Evan smiled. “Tonight.”

“Okay.” Connor stood there for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say, then finally just left, grabbing the folding chair he’d dropped on the way out of his backyard.

Evan watched him until he disappeared around the corner, and only moved when a loud gurgle from his stomach reminded him that it was dinner time for him, too.

* * *

Halfway through his feast of pizza rolls and Oreos, his phone buzzed.

_Okay but for real that was smooth af like who gave you the right_

He laughed, almost choking on a sharp piece of Oreo. Maybe there were some advantages to this whole ‘not seeing each other’ thing, because that would have totally ruined how smooth he apparently was.

**_Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?_ ** __

_OMG STOP Zoe’s gonna figure out I’m texting you if I smile too much_

_**Wait, are you at the dinner table right now?** _

_Bored_

_**CONNOR** _

As Evan laughed to himself alone in his room, he was suddenly hit with a feeling of peace. Sure, he couldn’t guarantee anyone’s safety, especially not his mom’s.

But if he was strong enough to take the next step with the guy who he couldn’t even speak to without stammering a few months ago, he could probably handle whatever came next.

As big as it all felt right now, he knew one day, it would feel so small.


End file.
